Billionaire Boss, M.D.(6)

So, the man had a sense of humor. Had he come complete with it, or had he had it grafted as another weapon in his overflowing arsenal? Or did he realize the benefits of manipulating lesser beings with the illusion of ease and indulgence, and had a subroutine written into his program that he could activate at will?

“Among the commendable-by-your-standards investments I can afford to make with the profits of not-so-commendable ones, there are ones in my own field. Restoring functionality, for instance. Thanks to the money-generating machines, I can invest heavily into integrated prosthetics, microsurgery appliances and research, scar prevention and treatment, and lately, muscle and nerve tissue regeneration. That endeavor will be the main focus of this facility in our collaboration. I’m not even putting a limit to the budget for this one. Whatever it takes to reach a breakthrough, I’ll provide the resources.”

Then just as he’d given her his undiluted attention, he took it away, making her feel as if he’d taken the chair and the ground beneath it right out from under her.

Before she realized she had a response to his rebuttal, she found herself sitting up, her pose confrontational, her tone even more challenging. “Well, it’s all quite laudable, I’m sure, that—while not advancing basic science as only someone of your clout and resources can—you invest in advancing your field. But ‘this facility’ already has its own array of ‘commendable’ projects under way, and it would be a loss that can’t be measured in money if we shelved them to head in the direction where you point us. Just because you acquired our services doesn’t mean you can cancel all our efforts, or should dictate which breakthrough is worth benefiting from our expertise backed by your unlimited funds and clout.”

This time everyone in the room turned to stab her on the pointy edge of their disapproval. The canny man had already won them over to his side, promising them shiny new projects, not to mention endless means to frolic in the land of scientific possibilities to their hearts’ content.

This time, Balducci didn’t give her the courtesy of a response. His argument had been designed to win her over, or at least chastise her. From her renewed attack he must have decided further response wouldn’t make a difference. As the epitome of pragmatism someone of his success must be, he’d decided she wasn’t worth the extra effort. He wouldn’t waste more time on a dissenting cog now that he was certain he had the rest of the machine wagging its components awaiting his directives.

Turning his attention to the rest, he directed everyone to read the folder carefully. Everyone’s roles and projects for the next year were spelled out to the last detail. Tomorrow would be the first working day under the new management, and he would be available at the provided email or phone number for any questions, concerns or minor adjustments. Any major suggestions would be discussed in the next general meeting. He closed by thanking everyone in such a way as to have them swooning all over again before he dismissed the assembly.

Everyone rose to shuffle around him, waiting their turn to catch his eye or shake his hand. Lili cursed them for the limpets they’d turned into, and cursed him for turning them into such. Still, she was thankful for the milling crowd that gave her the cover under which to escape. Snatching her bag up, leaving the folder behind, she rose. Head down, giving him the widest berth she could, she made a beeline for the door. To her dismay, he was making short work of everyone, and those he’d dismissed were already squeezing out of the room, hindering her escape. She barely curbed the urge to push through them and forced herself to take her turn walking out. Still she bristled at the censure and pity in their oblique gazes, but mostly at his disconcerting vibe at her back.

In minutes, she burst out into LA’s summer afternoon. She usually hated the transition from the beloved seclusion of her lab and the building’s controlled climate to the hot, humid bustle of the sprawling city. But now she was relieved to be out of what had become a place she’d hate to set foot in again. The place that was now Antonio Balducci’s.

She’d reached her Mazda in the parking lot when she felt as if an arrow had lodged between her shoulder blades.

It was his voice. Calling her.

What the hell!

Though her hand froze in midair with the remote, her thoughts streaked ahead. Did she dread him so much, like a kid dreads the headmaster singling her out, that she was imagining it? Even if he had called her, he must be here only to get his car, too.

In the next millisecond her analytical mind negated that theory. Antonio Balducci wouldn’t use public parking. He wouldn’t have driven himself here in the first place. One of those people who followed in his wake like efficient phantoms must be his chauffeur. He couldn’t have just stumbled on her. Which meant he must have pursued her specifically, and very quickly. Which made even less sense than any other theory.